CHAPTER TWELVE
Settling Felix at the bottom of the cot, I do what I can to get comfortable. My shoes go under the bed, and my hair band goes under the tiny pillow I was given. I lie down on my back, placing the sleeping bag over me, and stare at the ceiling, considering my situation.
I should probably be more scared than I am, but I can’t seem to muster the adrenaline or fear response from anywhere. Maybe my system is broken. I was pretty much scared witless for a solid hour or two tonight. I probably used all my fear juice earlier. Now all that’s left is the power to analyze, so analyzing is what I’m going to do.
I chew a dry spot on my lip and contemplate the facts. These guys work with the police, so they’re the good guys. They’re on my side. If they have weapons here, it’s probably just to do their jobs. I was the perfect target if killing innocent women is what they’re into, but instead of shooting me, freezing my corpse, and putting it in a wood chipper, they fed me soup. And not just any soup . . . amazing soup.
And what’s up with that? Ozzie is some kind of awesome chef? Ha. I never saw that coming. I smile at all the things that just don’t make sense about that guy. He’s a giant beast of a man, but no one is afraid of him, even when he’s yelling. He has their respect, but not out of fear. Now that I think about it, I guess he has mine too. Even though he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me, he saved me. Not just once, but twice. And now he’s given me a place to stay, so I can return home in the light of day without worrying about a stalker following me in his car. Bad guys lie low in the daytime, right? It’s much riskier for them to come after me when people can see them. Maybe it’s naive of me, but it’s the darkness and the cover it offers them that I fear.
Heck, maybe I could get one of these Bourbon Street Boys to come and check my house before I go inside tomorrow, to make sure it’s all safe. The idea makes me both warm and tired. Safety. Big muscular men to protect me. Yay. It’s got to be past midnight, and the room is surprisingly comfortable. They have a great air conditioning unit in here—just cool enough to get rid of the humidity, but not so cold I can’t fall asleep like a little baby being held in its momma’s arms . . .
I’m just starting to drift off when the smell hits me.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, inhaling to make sure it’s not just a nightmare I’m having. “Felix, was that you?” My eyes fly open.
When I hear a groan, a sliding sound across the floor, and a grunt, I realize that Felix and I are not alone in the room. Turning my head to the side, I see the giant beast—Felix’s girlfriend—lying there next to my cot.
“Holy crap, Sahara, does your owner have gas masks around here anywhere? Because he should. Damn.” I put the sleeping bag over my face and try to breathe.
Forget comfortably warm and tired. I’m wide-awake now, living in the nightmare that is a hellhound’s intestinal gas.
“Jesus, what do they feed you, anyway?”
I hear another noise and turn my head toward the doorway. The dim light from something in the kitchen illuminates Ozzie’s head and shoulders.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask from under the sleeping bag that’s acting as a not very effective gas mask. I really hope he doesn’t think that smell came from me.
He sighs heavily. “Come get in my bed.”
I blink a few times, not sure I heard him correctly. The stench could be affecting my hearing—it’s that strong. I thought I heard an invitation to heaven leave his lips, but that can’t be right.
“Excuse me?”
“I meant take my bed. I can’t have you out here sleeping on that cot.”
Flashes of those satin sheets have me breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Uhhhh, no thank you.” No way. I’m no nympho, but I can only be expected to endure so much. Being in his bed, in those sheets, with him standing there with that chest and those arms. No. Just . . . no.
“I’ll take the cot,” he says, persistent rescuer that he is.
My voice goes up into a higher register in my effort to sound carefree. “No, that’s okay. I love camping. This cot is awesome. Really. Keep the bed. I’ll be fine.”
He walks farther into the kitchen. “Thibault’ll give me a ration of shit if I let you sleep out here. Come on—I promise I won’t bother you. Just take the bed. The sheets were washed today.”
I swallow with difficulty. I can see his naked body so clearly in my mind. The fact that he’s wearing that tight shirt is not helping erase the images. Sometimes I hate that I’m a photographer. All I need is an outline of muscles, and my brain fills in all the rest.
“I’ll tell Thibault I refused. Don’t worry.” I wait for Ozzie to leave. I’ve practically engraved an invitation for him to beat it out of here at this point.
He tilts his head, reminding me of a confused canine. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get what?” I let the sleeping bag slide down from my face a little. Testing the air tells me I’m probably safe breathing it again, which is great because it was getting stiflingly hot under that thing.
“I’m offering you a real bed in a room with a door you can lock, and you’re telling me you’d rather sleep on that hard cot out here in the kitchen?” He lifts his nose to the air. “It smells like sausages out here.”
I sigh, knowing that as difficult as it may be to dispense it, a little dose of honesty will be very effective at making this guy go away. I’m getting the sense that Ozzie is a very cut and dried kind of person, so here goes nothing . . .
“Listen, Ozzie, I appreciate the hospitality, but I’m not going to sleep in your bed. It’s not the sheets being dirty or the fact that the cot is comfy that’s making me say no, okay? It’s that they’re satin. And they’re yours. So just go to bed, okay? And take your smelly dog with you, because that’s not sausages you smell in here; she’s got gas.”
He stands there and stares at me. The heat from his gaze starts seeping into my bones. The time for honesty is gone, gone, gone. Now I just have to lie to get rid of him.
“Honestly, Ozzie, you’re kind of creeping me out right now.”
“Is it the beard?”
He sounds so vulnerable, I can’t help but giggle. I think I actually struck a nerve with that insult. Oops.
“No, it’s not the beard, okay? Your beard was hideous, but it wasn’t scary. It wouldn’t keep me out of your bed.”
Holy crap. I can’t believe I said that. My ears are on fire. Go away, honesty!
“I’m sorry if I came off rude earlier.”
Thank goodness he didn’t pick up on that innuendo I slathered all over that last comment. I can breathe normally again. Almost normally.
“You weren’t rude. Well, okay, maybe you were a little rude, but it didn’t bother me.”
“Why not?”
I shrug, not sure why myself. “I don’t know. It just didn’t.”
Another long pause occurs before he speaks. “You’re not like I expected you to be.”
“Oh yeah?” I yawn really loudly, my eyes falling closed on their own. It’s way past my bedtime, and now Ozzie’s being nice. It makes me feel like snuggling down into this bed and going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have the energy to spar with him some more. “Prob’ly ’cuz I’m Little Bo Peep. I totally blend.”
My mind wanders to that day I took pictures of that philandering creep in the park, and I smile in my half-asleep state. So busted. I took over fifty shots of him with his arm draped around that girl half his age, kissing her neck, giving her a gift wrapped in a jewelry box. Maybe he’s the guy who shot my car tonight. I frown a little as my mind wanders over that potential nightmare.
“I guess maybe you could blend a little,” says a deep voice off to my right.
I’m too tired to place it.
“Go count your sheep then, Little Bo Peep,” the voice says, soothing in timbre and pitch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”